


Oh Good, You're Here

by SidheLives



Series: Fen'Harem Fluffcember 2020 [8]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluffcember, Gifts, Grief/Mourning, Hawke Left in the Fade (Dragon Age), Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Post-Solavelyan, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:27:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28456797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SidheLives/pseuds/SidheLives
Summary: "Oh good, you're here." Desdemona spotted him the moment his blond hair cleared the landing."I'm here. What did you want to talk to me about?""I have something for you— well not you exactly.""For me but not for me. What does that mean?" One corner of his lips quirked up.Desdemona glowered at his grin. "It's for Justice.""You have something for… Justice?""Yes." Desdemona shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "A gift."Written for Fen'Harem's Fluffcember 2020Prompt: Gifts
Relationships: Anders & Justice (Dragon Age), Anders/Female Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Anders/Female Trevelyan (Dragon Age), Anders/Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Anders/Trevelyan (Dragon Age), Inquisitor & The Well of Sorrows, Trevelyan & The Well of Sorrows
Series: Fen'Harem Fluffcember 2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035954
Kudos: 4
Collections: Fen'Harem's Fluffcember 2020





	Oh Good, You're Here

Anders found that he liked the relative quiet of Skyhold. It reminded him of places that, for a time, he had been happy like Vigil's Keep and Aria's Estate. Not absolute silence, the eerie vacuum that was the Deep Roads, nor the cacophonous rabble of Kirkwall, but something in between. It was a lived-in quiet, and like those happy places, was permeated with a feeling of safety. 

At Vigil's Keep he had been, for the first time his life, free from the Circle and protected from the threat of Templars.

Aria and her home in High Town had been safe havens from the chaos of Kirkwall and the looming possibility of either a forced return to the Wardens or Tranquility.

Skyhold was a different, more pervasive safety. Divine Victoria, the mysterious Sister Nightingale, had abolished the Circles of Magi. The Grey Wardens of Fereldan were independent of Weisshaupt and rebuilding on their own, with no interest in tracking down their strays. And the Inquisitor…

He didn't know what Desdemona was. The idea that she was his enemy had withered and died at some point in the months since his arrival, but did that make her his friend? His lover? Certainly by definition. They had never discussed what they were to each other, if what they had was more than two broken souls fumbling for any touch which might chase away the painful memories of heartbreak. Anders wasn’t sure he wanted to have that conversation; he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

"Ser Anders."

The voice caught him off guard, as did the honorific. Anders had been staring at but not seeing one of the fine stained glass windows in the library, an open book in his lap forgotten as he had become lost in thought. The red-headed elf who had spoken his name was familiar, she lurked in the rookery: receiving reports from scouts scurrying up and down through the library and sending ravens to the Grand Cathedral. "Just Anders, please. What do you need?"

"Anders." The elf nodded. Her name was Charter, Anders remembered. "The Inquisitor would like to speak with you."

 _Speaking of demons_ , Anders thought. He set the book aside and stretched as he stood.

"Any chance you know where I would find Her Worship?"

"She is in her chambers."

"Alright. Thank you for the message."

Charter saluted him, another irregularity that made his stomach wobble, then curtly turned and headed up the stairs to the rookery. Anders took the stairs down, passing through the brilliantly painted rotunda. He tried not to look at the walls as he walked between them, their clean lines and bright colors reverberating with Desdemona's grief. She had never spoken to him about the room and, to his knowledge, she had stepped foot there only once since his arrival at the fortress: he been above in the library and she hadn't noticed his observation, too busy angrily upturning a table and muffling furious, anguished screams between her teeth. He had spoken to others in the keep, however, about the paintings, the strange distant elf who had created them, and his sudden departure from the Inquisitor's side.

He told himself that it was none of his business, but something inside him curled with revulsion at the sight of the frescos. Something that had a name, and on occasion, a voice.

The stairs up to the Inquisitor's chambers were arduous, and gave Anders time to focus on the question of why she had summoned him; a change in contemplation which quieted Justice's ire. Desdemona had never been shy about tracking him down when she wanted to see him: appearing out of nowhere to share a letter from Varric or discuss magical theory or, occasionally, to shuffle him into a broom closet for hasty half-dressed sex. 

He suspected these irregular visits had more to do with loneliness than her desire to speak with him specifically. Most of her companions had drifted away from Skyhold after the Breach had been closed. Some, like the Qunari, The Iron Bull, was often present, but others, like the infamous Lady of Iron, had been gone before Anders even arrived. Those that remained had started making their departures once it was clear Anders was no longer a threat. Hundreds of soldiers and mages had also evacuated the keep, returning to their families or joining with the newly formed College of Enchanters. At the middle of it all was Desdemona, the unrelenting Inquisitor, continuing the thankless job of doing right in a world that was no longer sure it needed her.

Desdemona was social, and bold, and fed on the interaction with the people around her. When she desired company she sought it out. So why would she send another in her place to request his presence?

"Oh good, you're here." Desdemona spotted him the moment his blond hair cleared the landing. She looked gorgeous and stately as usual, but Anders noticed a nervous energy in the way she tossed her hair behind one shoulder and gripped her elbows as she crossed her arms.

"I'm here. What did you want to talk to me about?"

She gestured for him to come closer. "I have something for you— well not you exactly."

With a quizzical expression, Anders crossed to her, noting the uncharacteristically humble tone of her voice. He reflected that he had never before the Inquisitor sound unsure about anything. When Desdemona spoke her words became truth: she could announce that the sky was purple and he would take it as fact. "For me but not for me. What does that mean?" One corner of his lips quirked up.

Desdemona glowered at his grin. "It's for Justice."

Anders's curious amusement vanished, replaced by slack-jawed shock. He stared at her, waiting for a "gotcha" or some other walk-back of the statement, but she appeared completely serious. He felt the spirit's attention stir: like a coiled snake raising its sinuous head at movement in its vicinity.

"You have something for… Justice?"

"Yes." Desdemona shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "A gift."

Justice seemed to cock its head in interest at that. "Oh?" Anders asked, sharing the spirit's curiosity.

"It was The Well's idea." Desdemona crossed her arms defensively. 

A shiver slid down Anders's spine. The Well, like Justice had, seemed to respond to mention of it. Through his connection to the spirit, Anders could feel the awareness of the entity: not a spirit but not entirely unlike one, a consciousness based in the essence of justice, but more nuanced and terrifyingly human in its motivations than the simplistic spirit which rode along with Anders.

Desdemona's statement clarified nothing about the situation, so Anders continued to stare gormlessly at her, awaiting an actual explanation. She was grinding her teeth, body language spelling out exasperation with his confusion. Mouth half open, presumably to call him an idiot, she stalled. Her eyes fluttered closed and her head tilted to one side, as if listening to voices from an adjoining room. The voices, Anders knew, were inside her: the _vir'abelasan_ , millennia of knowledge from the ancient elves hitched into the back of her mind. Desdemona took a deep breath and her eyes opened again, the aggression in them having melted away.

"Justice is a part of you, just as The Well is a part of me." She sounded surer, more confident, more like herself. "If we are going to continue carrying on as we have, it is included in that. Call it a peace offering." She held out her hand, but Anders couldn't see what she held, his attention caught on her steady expression.

He felt adrift, emotions erratic and unable to settle on any one feeling. Desdemona's words crept between his ribs, reaching and clutching at his core. It was a queer sensation: part awe, part apprehension, and underneath his own reaction was the ballooning approval of the spirit. Justice had already liked Desdemona, or perhaps it was her invisible passenger that it liked, but this offer of amity seemed to solidify its approval.

Anders, for his part, found himself concerned with the implication of her overture.

"Do you intend for us to continue carrying on?" He asked, all levity set aside from his tone.

"I do." Neither her hand nor tone wavered. "If your intentions are the same."

Anders studied her face: the tousled golden curls spilling from her crown like the crest of a mighty waterfall, her ivory pale skin, the sharp acid green of her eyes, her full but petite carmine lips, the imperfect bend of her narrow nose. Nothing remotely like Aria's tanned, dark, regal features. Aria had looked like an exotic goddess of battle; Desdemona resembled a porcelain doll, but for the fire behind her eyes.

He slowly looked down at what she held. It seemed to be a perfect sphere of air with a glowing, pulsing blue heart at its center. He realized it must have been glass or some perfectly clear crystal, cast around the core as it had no seams to speak of, with a loop at one end which a leather cord had been fed through to make it a pendant. Anders felt Justice rise more noticeably to the surface of his consciousness. 

_Lyrium_.

The word vibrated through Anders's skull. Pure, poisonous lyrium. Knowing what it was he could feel the slight power it emanated, insulated somehow in its crystalline casing.

He looked back at Desdemona's face, a slight smile creasing the skin around her eyes. "I believe it possessed something similar many years ago, lost when it abandoned a former host." She said softly. "This one, however, poses no danger to your body."

Justice affirmed this, showing Anders flashes of a pure lyrium ring gifted to him by the Warden Commander, the touch of which would have eaten away at living flesh. Desdemona's knowledge of this was a mystery to the spirit, as even Anders only vaguely remembered the band of blue sunk deep into the rotting flesh of what had once been Kristoff. _The Well_ , he remembered. It must have somehow shown her the ring and Justice's regret over its loss. The spirit confirmed that this was the only explanation.

Anders began to raise his arm to take the pendant, lips slightly parted, a thank you ready on his tongue, then froze, petrified by sudden indecision.

_If your intentions are the same._

Were they?

He felt himself slipping into her eyes, their hue so like the Breach which had split the sky, a portal to another world. His chest felt tight, heart stirring with a gentle, familiar warmth. It had been there a while, he realized belatedly, slowly building as they discussed societal reform and shared their similar stories from growing up in the Circle. Anders had ignored it, his subconscious deciding that the feeling had no place in what it had worked hard to convince him was a purely sexual relationship. Of course, looking back, it had never been purely sexual, that was merely easier to navigate.

Desdemona's gift forced him to acknowledge that the situation was not so simple.

" _You feel affection for this creature_."

Justice's voice was low, a vibration in Anders's skull rather than a sound, and made the hair on Anders's arms stand up. He bit his lip, a tactile reminder not to speak out loud before responding. " _I do_."

" _Why do you feel guilt over this fact_?"

Anders didn't need to consciously respond, images of Aria flooded the strange byway of their communication: Aria in battle, splattered with blood and eyes sparkling with manic violence. Aria drenched in sweat, lips parted in ecstasy, her hips rolling against his. Aria curled into his side in front of a roaring fire, warm mug in one hand and his clasped tight in the other.

" _She is gone_."

He felt himself wince. A year gone. Eleven months and five days to be exact, the date etched into his bones. It seemed such a short time to mourn, he should be mourning.

" _This creature is not your Hawke. Feeling affection for her does not replace the part of you which the Hawke's passing has rent_."

Anders's brow knit. Justice had hit upon the crux, the unacknowledged fear that had made him reject even the passing notion that he might have feelings for the Inquisitor. Aria had been his and he had been hers. He would have faced anything with her by his side. _Without_ her, his vengeance was all that remained: anger and hate for a world that had stolen her from him, but Desdemona had doused the embers and left him with nothing. 

And wasn't that what he deserved? To remain a shrine to the undeserved love given to him by a great woman? To even dream of love or happiness without her was heretical, he was not worthy of such things.

" _You are wrong. You do an injustice to yourself, and to the Hawke as well._ "

Anders felt his skull rattle with the intensity of the spirit's declaration.

" _The Hawke affected you profoundly. Nothing will alter that fact. To imply otherwise does a disservice to her memory. I am inclined to believe that the Hawke would wish you happiness._ "

"Anders?" Desdemona had one eyebrow raised.

With a start, he refocused on her. He reflected that the interaction with Justice had probably occurred over seconds, but the expectant expression she wore made him feel sheepish. She had clearly not anticipated any delay in his response.

"Sorry, I—" Anders cleared his throat. He raised his arm, the movement feeling heavy, and lay his hand over the trinket she held, the edges of his fingers brushing her palm. He could feel the magic dancing within it, almost hear the tune which conducted it. 

"Thank you." He managed the words, voice lower and softer than he intended. "Justice, _and I_ , appreciate the gesture." He left unspoken the gravity of what she offered him, and the counterbalance of his conflict with it. The way her smile bloomed and shoulders relaxed at his words suggested explanations were unnecessary, and hinted at a parallel struggle as invisible as his own.

"I hoped you would." She snatched her hand and the pendant from below his. "Let me help." Before he could respond, Desdemona had draped the cord around his neck, the orb of lyrium hanging just over his heart. With a smirk, she readjusted the bauble so it slid under his tunic. "Against skin is better."

"Speaking of," Anders's wry smile slipped into place as quickly as his thoughts turned to lighter matters, grateful for something other than his turmoil to focus on. His hands came to rest in a featherlight touch on her hips. "Do I get a gift?"

Her eyes lit like a gas-fed stove, igniting with a heat that made Anders feel much too warm in his light garments. "I don't have anything prepared, but I could throw something together for you." Her hands slid down his chest to the waistband of his trousers. "Although I expect emphatic thanks." She raised one shapely eyebrow again, her fingers losing the catch on his belt as they drifted lower.

The edges of Anders's vision wavered as he felt her touch through sturdy cotton. "I'm indebted to you, now on Justice's behalf as well as my own. Expressing my gratitude could very well take hours."

Desdemona chuckled, a sound that made Anders's spine turn to jelly, even before she carefully lowered herself to her knees, eyes burning like two miniature stars. "I suppose we should get started then."

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my crackship.  
> Please enjoy the view.


End file.
